


A Wedding Planner and A Divorce Lawyer Walk Into A Bar

by TheBramblefish



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, it's the non-werewolf AU you never actually wanted, nobody is dead and they're all happy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBramblefish/pseuds/TheBramblefish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wedding planner for the Argent-McCall nuptials is unfairly hot, and Stiles' entire life is a bad pun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wedding Planner and A Divorce Lawyer Walk Into A Bar

Derek knows very well that he isn’t what people expect of a wedding planner. Then again, his weddings aren’t exactly run-of-the-mill either. He’s planned for stars and royalty and everything in between; his weddings have taken place in Patagonia, in Alaska, on mountaintops, and even in a cave. What’s more, Derek does it all almost completely by himself. He has three assistants; Boyd does his cakes, Erica his books, and Isaac his rentals. Together, they make up Hale Weddings, a completely bespoke event group run by a cranky mountain man. Business is good.

* * *

 

“Pack meet!” Erica shouts from her chair. Isaac tumbles into the office, Boyd following sedately behind, texting as he goes. Two minutes later, Derek arrives, pocketing his own phone.

“Thanks, Boyd.” He mutters.

“Just got an email from you will never fucking guess who!” Erica crows over Derek.

“Who, please tell me, I can’t bear it.” Boyd deadpans. Erica bounces in her seat, eyes shining with excitement.

“Allison Fucking Argent!” She yells, and Isaac gasps, clapping excitedly.

“Yes, and?” Derek prompts her, unmoved by her words.

“She wants us to plan her wedding!” Erica says gleefully, and Derek sighs.

“Yeah. Most people do. Did she give you a potential budget?” Derek asks, and Erica’s grin becomes almost impossibly wide.

“This is the best part!” she says. “She has Five. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars.” Boyd whistles lowly and Derek quirks a brow. Isaac is fairly vibrating in his seat.

“And she wants us first?” He asks, and Erica nods. “I have her on the books to contract next Monday. This is gonna be so fucking cool! An Olympic archer! Getting married! By us!”

* * *

 

The news of medaling archer Allison Argent’s engagement to a veterinarian named Scott McCall spreads rapidly. Allison is America’s darling girl, actress turned Olympiad. The vet, McCall, is discovered to have published several papers on pack behavior of wolves in captivity and the wild, and is a well-known specialist in predator rehabilitation and rescue. They’re so obviously in love it makes Derek want to vomit pure sugar.

They’re sitting on the love seat across from Derek’s desk, cuddled together on the plush sofa. If he weren’t already used to this sort of behavior from his clients he’d probably have long since lost all his teeth to cavities by now.

“Alright.” He says, catching their attention. “Now that Erica has taken care of the paperwork, we can get down to business.” Derek pulls a fresh notebook out and slips on his readers. “First, I’d like to ask what you already have in mind as far as the theme and venue.”Derek jots down notes as the two speak; Allison wants a nature themed wedding and Scott wants to get married in a forest. Derek can see why they chose him now.

Later, once the couple has left, Derek pulls the team into his office and breaks it down.

“We have nine months to plan a forest wedding.”

“Is she preggo?” Erica blurts, and Derek shrugs.

“Not my business. We just have to find a nice enough forest that they can actually have the ceremony in. McCall wants it to be a “first growth” forest.” He flips his notes around, allowing his employees to read.

“Wait, you mean like an actual forest? I thought they just meant a forest theme.” Isaac frowns as he goes over the basics. “It’ll be hard to get rentals out to the venue, and the deposit will be way higher.”

“Transporting the cake safely will be even more of a pain than usual.” Boyd adds. Erica is staring blankly at the notebook, already crunching numbers in her head. Her brows are furrowed and her lips are turned into a tiny frown. Derek shrugs at his employees.

“They can afford it, they want it, make it happen.”

* * *

 

They make it happen. The Argent-McCall wedding is a smashing success; the ceremony takes place in a wooded glen, and the reception takes place at a lodge nearby. Allison, resplendent in ivory lace that brushes the bottom of her tightly laced boots, pulls Derek and his team to the photographer and has a picture taken of them with the newlyweds, then the best man and maid of honor are pulled in as well. The maid of honor, Lydia, is flushed with wine and happiness, and the best man, Stilinski, is in the same state as he wraps both arms around Scott’s waist. Derek finds him incredibly cute, and incredibly drunk. Whatever. At least the best man hasn’t vomited on him- it’s an experience Derek never wants to relive.

Later, Derek is wrapping up the cake when the best man stumbles into the tent they’ve been using for prep work.

“Employees only.” Derek says shortly, and the drunken man sighs as he pulls at his bowtie.

“Just a minute, man, I’m dying out there.” Derek finishes wrapping the top tier of the cake and pulls out a chair- the alcohol and heat have clearly gotten to Stilinski and Derek doesn’t want a lawsuit on his hands.

“Do you need some water, Mr. Stilinski?” He asks as the best man eases himself into the chair.

“Stiles, just call me Stiles. And honestly, water would be amazing.” He groans, and Derek fetches him a bottle from their cooler. Stiles drinks his water in silence. Derek is the only one in the tent right now; his crew is having their dinner and Erica is running crowd control while Boyd serves the rest of the cake- a four tiered chocolate praline monstrosity that had the groom drooling when it was brought out.

“Sooooo…” Stiles drawls into the silence. “How did you get into wedding planning?” he asks, and Derek pauses.

“I planned my sister’s wedding. It just sort of escalated quickly from there.” He says, and Stiles laughs.

“Dude, that’s awesome! I don’t have any sort of cool origin story like that.” He whistles.

“What do you do then?” Derek asks, and Stiles laughs ruefully.

“Ah. I’m a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” Derek prompts him, and Stiles runs a hand through his short brown hair.

“I specialize in family law. Specifically, divorces.”

“Oh.” Derek says, and Stiles laughs again.

“Yeah, the divorce lawyer and the wedding planner- sounds like a bad joke or something.”

“Not really,” Derek replies off-handedly. “I plan for lots of couples I know aren’t going to make it.” And Stiles gapes at him.

“No way!” He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “How can you tell?” he asks eagerly.

“Just,” Derek grasps for words. “Just how they look at each other, how they make decisions, how they split duties and responsibilities. It’s kind of intuitive.” He says.

“That’s awesome! I mean-” Stiles fumbles, his cheeks gaining a light dusting of pink as he blushes. “Not that your clients break up, that’s not awesome. But. It’s cool that you can read them like that.” He says, and Derek grins wryly.

“Isn’t it just more business for you?” Stiles shrugs loosely and finishes his water. His cheeks are still pink and it’s more than a little attractive.

“Might be.” He says, and stands with a sigh. “I should get back out there.” He says, and Derek nods.

“Me too.” He hefts the monogrammed bag filled with the top tier of the cake and two packaged plates of leftovers for Mr. and Mrs. McCall-Argent.

“It was fun talking to you.” Stiles offers his hand, and Derek shakes it politely. Stiles’ palm is warm, just the slightest bit damp from the condensation on the water bottle, and his fingers are long and bony. Stiles stares at their joined hands before frowning.

“Ah, what the hell.” He pulls a pen from his jacket pocket, grabs a loose cocktail napkin from a nearby table and scribbles and name and number on it before tucking it into the breast pocket of Derek’s black suit. “Call me sometime, okay?”

He smiles, and with a quick press of his lips against Derek’s cheek, he’s gone in a whirl of red wine and cologne. Derek presses his free hand to the cheek that Stiles just kissed.

“Huh.” He says to the air. Maybe he will call.

* * *

 

Stiles and Lydia see Allison and Scott off to Saint Lucia at noon. The happy couple, damn them, don’t look even remotely as hungover as Stiles feels. Lydia, of course, looks perfect as always. They’ve gone their separate ways and Stiles is contemplating finding a Waffle House or maybe a well to throw himself down when his phone rings, the tone painfully loud to his poor, wine-beaten brain. He fumbles it from his pocket and answers reluctantly.

“Hello?” he rasps, and there’s a low chuckle from the other end.

“Should I call back later?” Stiles groans internally- it’s the hot wedding planner, who of course sounds perfect while Stiles feels like he’s been dragged through a bed of hot coals.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Stiles says. “I just might have to kill you for convincing Scott and Ally to go for an open bar.” He jokes weakly, and hot planner laughs again.

“So you do remember last night.” He says, and good god his voice is perfect.

“Miraculously, yes.” Stiles affirms.

“Have you eaten yet?” Hot planner asks. “I know a great place for a hangover relief breakfast.”

“Marry me.” Stiles says fervently, because nothing sounds better right now than a huge breakfast with an unfairly attractive man.

“Maybe let's start with lunch.” Comes the reply. He rattles of the address of a diner downtown that Stiles is vaguely familiar with.

“I’ll see you in thirty?” He asks as he confirms.

“Perfect.” Hot planner replies. “I’m Derek, by the way.” He says, sounding a bit awkward, even over the phone. “I wasn’t sure if I ever gave you my name.”

“Great, now our wedding invitations won’t just say Hot Planner and Divorce Lawyer.” Stiles laughs.

“At least I’m hot.” Comes the snarky reply. “I’ll see you soon, Stiles.” And he hangs up.

Stiles sighs and saves Derek’s number to his phone, smiling as he does.

“Yeah.” He says to himself. “Yeah, I’d look great in white.”


End file.
